When I was a teenager, I remember my brother, Chris, in an accusatory voice telling me I'd grow up to marry a millionaire. I think it was meant to be an indictment of materialism, but the whole of the conversation escapes me now. What I remember, and the point of me remembering that conversation all these years later, is my response to him: "No! I'll grow up and be a millionaire."
Money wasn't the issue for me, it was independence. I didn't want to rely on anyone. I wanted to do it myself. I doubt that I'll ever be a millionaire. I'm not exactly trying. I don't need oodles of money to be happy, just enough to live comfortably. Much more beyond that and it becomes about power. Power isn't important to me, independence is. I think it would be easy to blur the two though.
In spite of all this strong, independent, mindedness, I've never really been a women's libber type. It's not that I don't believe in women's rights, or the camaraderie we should draw from each other to fight for what is rightfully ours, I've just never had the outward anger towards men that usually comes with it. I guess because I'm not looking to turn the tables, I just want a seat at it.
However, I can't help hearing the rallying cry, "Towanda!" and getting juiced by it. I watched the movie, "Fried Green Tomatoes," the weekend before last. I had seen it before, but it had been a long time. I forgot just how great that movie is. It's about strength of character, strength of spirit, and strength of heart. A reviewer on the site I linked above states that "they became more than the sum of their parts," in reference to the female relationships of the movie. It's an awesome feeling to find a strong connection like that, and even more so when women work together to accomplish something that one might think requires a man.
On Sunday, I had my own opportunity for a "Towanda!" moment - four women moving an apartment full of furnishings. Not really a big deal until you face down the couch of opposition. It's a wicked beast that nearly took down two very capable men and a wall to get it into the apartment. So, how were four women going to get it out? Where there's a will, there's a way! As Trish kissed the money she paid for it goodbye, Gigi and I began cutting off the upholstery. Once it laid bare, Paula and I began dismantling the couch with a hammer. We were then able to cart it out the door piece by piece and disposed of it in the dumpster. Towanda!